


The Hunted

by The_logical_paradox



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Graphic Description, M/M, Obsession, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_logical_paradox/pseuds/The_logical_paradox
Summary: A new survivor appears one day, a young man named Miles, and he unfortunately catches the eye of the Ghost Face during his first trial.(A short piece of writing I'm considering expanding upon)
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Original Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	The Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering writing about an OC in the universe of Dead By Daylight, but I'm unsure whether it's worth pursuing.  
> I'd appreciate any feedback on this brief chapter! I did a little editing, but not much, so I apologize for any glaring grammar issues or inconsistencies.  
> This would probably develope into something dark if I did continue it, due to the nature of the game. I'd have to do some research and plan a bit before the next chapter would go up as well.  
> Please enjoy, and I hope everyone is staying safe and sane during this time!

The dark fog does not help me feel concealed, quite the opposite in fact, I feel more exposed than ever. Like a rabbit waiting in a field of gray clouds, oblivious to the wolf stalking just outside of sight. I had yet to find anyone else, but their words still haunt my brain as I duck behind a half crumbled wall. 

_Stay down, don't make noise, and if your heart feels like it's about to break open your chest… Run._ A man- what was his name, Jake?- told me in a hurried voice. 

I once again close my eyes and shake my head. My brain fog lifted when I entered the estate ground, but the confusion lingered. I can think clearly about how this doesn't make any sense, about how no one will answer my questions- just give me those pitiful looks and words of warning. 

_It's a game. Survive._

A loud shriek permeates the fog, which has now reduced to a ghostly, ever-moving carpet along the ground. I stand quickly, it was to my left. I want to go, rush to the aid of whoever screamed, but fear roots my feet to the ground. The scream dies and my heavy breathing is all I hear, until- what is that loud banging? I nearly cover my ears to block it out, then my blood runs cold and I feel the thumping in my chest. That unbearable sound is my pounding heart. 

I flip around, but there is no one visible in the darkness. _Run._ The voice resurfaces in my head, and I listen. My feet move and the space I occupied seconds before is attacked by a black mass. My own scream is caught in my throat as I propel myself over a fallen tree branch and dive through the maze of crumbling walls and wood stacks. A hand grabs me from behind a wall and pulls me sharply against it. Another hand presses harshly to my mouth, and I panic before recognizing the man. He holds a finger to his lips. 

"Once you lose him, stop running, or else he can follow your tracks." He whispers, glancing around the corner. I nod. The maddening pounding of my heart has died down and I'm finally able to catch my breath. The relief of company is welcome, if not an illusion. There is no relief here, no amount of companionship will keep me safe. Still, a tinge of comfort blossoms weakly in my brain. 

He takes one more breath, one more glance, and nods to the side. 

"Come on, there's a generator this way." He crouches and leds me through the gloom. 

My head can't quite wrap around the bizarre situation I've found myself in. A game is what the others called it. A game of cat and mouse, only much more deadly and much more unfair. If we win, we get what? Freedom? No, safety, if only for a short period. But losing… They seemed sure when they said I wouldn't stay dead, I don't desire to find out if they're correct or not. 

We come upon the generator and it immediately sets me on edge. The machine is noisy, lit up by a light and set in a small clearing. I nearly scoff at how exposed we'll be, at how little we'll be able to hear over the thrumming of the engine. 

My companion points to the other side. 

"Get to work." He says as he throws open a hatch on his side. He works quickly, his eyes focused on the wires. I, however, find myself glancing to the side every two seconds. 

"Hey..." he pauses as if trying to recall my name, although I've never had the chance to tell him. 

"It's Miles-"

"Look Miles, I know it's your first trial, but focus on the generator." He gives me a look from underneath his heavy eyebrows- it isn't exactly anger I see in his eyes, but a deep tiredness. 

I try, it's surprisingly easy enough to see what parts are out of place. I lean in to focus when my fingers bump something the wrong way and the whole generator blows up in my face. I fall back and shake my hand with a silent curse. 

"Get up, we gotta move." The man says and he's gone before I can get to my feet. I want to call out to him, but the silence is so perfect I'm scared to interrupt it. A lullaby of peace and quiet that would have been beautiful in my old life, and now only weaves my nerves in a pattern that spells panic. 

I turn around, deciding that trailing behind him like a dog might not be the best idea, and thump into a solid body. It knocks my glasses askew, but for the briefest moment as I fix them I'm exhilarated that I've found another survivor. Then, I can see again and my face falls into a look of terror as a white, distorted mask tilts as if studying me. I back away, stumbling over my own feet, and see the man raise his right hand and wave a hunting knife. It's steel glistens with red as if he tried to wipe it off and only succeeded in rubbing it around. 

My eyes are glued to the blade, wide in horror. He moves and that is my cue to run. Luckily, my body knows how to keep me alive because my brain can't comprehend how I made it away from the generator and into the dark maze of decaying wood. I can't hear footsteps, a thought crosses my brain that the killer didn't follow me, that is until a searing pain rips across my back and is matched by my scream. Adrenaline and pure fear spurs me forward, through a narrow opening of wooden stacks. I grab the pallet leaning against one, the splintering wood digs into my flesh as I heave it down. I hadn't realized how close behind me he was, the pallet barely cut him off. He stops, looking down at the pallet and then up at me. Then he raises his knife and wipes the fresh blood- my blood- on his sleeve. He raises a foot and brings it down heavily onto the deteriorating wood, which responds with a pitiful cracking noise. I don't bother watching as I hear the pallet cracking behind me again, and I'm deep in the ruins before I hear it finally break. 

I crouch behind a stack of old wooden pallets and listen. I can't hear anything, but the absence of footsteps does nothing to set my nerves at ease. If anything, it makes me more anxious, after all I didn't hear that monster when he appeared at the generator. 

My attention is drawn to the wound on my back. It stings against the air with every breath. From the throbbing it feels as if it spans nearly my whole back. My hands shake from the compulsion to touch it and the knowledge that would only hurt it more. I have no medical supplies, I'll have to push on as best as I can. 

I take a few more deep breaths and hobble away from my hiding spot. Moving at least feels like progress. 

What feels like hours pass, but I've heard these trials don't last nearly as long as they feel. Maybe time, like everything else in this place, is distorted and bastardized. 

The sheer bad luck I've had is astonishing. After parting ways with that man at the generator, I've yet to find another survivor. A part of me says it's for the best, judging on how many screams I've heard, that I stay alone and hidden. Twice I've seen the sky erupt into a storm of abomination, and I suspect that's what the others were talking about when they said _it_ took people when they died. That means there's two left, including me. I don't know how many generators are done. I only fiddled with one other, but ran when I heard noises in the distance. A vague shame settles over my body like a fine net; _useless_ , I couldn't help anyone, I couldn't save anyone- 

A shout rings out, deep and coarse and close by. My feet carry me down a weaving path until I see the man from earlier hung on a hook. He's struggling violently with… a claw? Some sort of black appendage wrapped in glowing orange veins that emits a foulness I can't explain. The claw-like extremities wrap all around him, a spiral of spider legs. I sprint to the hook and attempt to get my hands around his torso, I'm not sure I'd even be able to lift him up if I did, but he's struggling too hard. I shudder as I bump a claw, but it doesn't seem to notice my presence. 

"Stop moving, I can't-" 

"Kid, get out of here! Find the hatch!" He hisses and kicks me away with one foot. The main claw takes the chance to plunge into his gut with a sickening squelch. He goes limp as the monster claims it's prize. I back away from the horror show, as he's lifted into a whirlpool of chaos. 

"Enjoying the show?" A voice rasps next to my ear. His hands are roughly clamped on my shoulders before I can react and I'm thrown to the ground. My hands claw at the dirt, but a heavy boot settles against my spine and presses down until I scream from the pain. 

"Stop!" I cry out, aware of the futility. Surprisingly, the pressure lifts somewhat, and I can feel him lean over. 

"I always love fresh blood. Is this your first trial?" He asks in a predatory, sick way, as if the thought thrilled him. Maybe the killers gloat about having the first kill when a newcomer arrives. 

"Yeah," I cough out through my stuttering breath. He laughs, lifting his foot up. 

"I could tell, by your eyes. The fear fades after time, but it's so potent in you. Why don't we enjoy this?" I feel hands go around my waist, and then I'm lifted off the ground. He tosses me over his shoulder with an ease no man should have. New fear spikes through me and I begin to struggle, to grab onto anything I can reach. The monster carrying me just seems amused, tugging me away from anything I grasp and tsk-ing in a playful manner. I don't find it amusing or settling at all how much enjoyment he's getting from this. We pass through a doorway into a building and my heart races. At the very least I know I won't be hooked, as we've already passed two. Any relief that thought gave me is lost as we begin to descend down a set of wooden stairs. My struggling begins tenfold, and I manage to slip a little before he readjusts me harshly. 

"Why are you doing this?" I ask as I grasp at his back. There's no response. I'm sure everyone he's killed has asked that, out loud or in their minds, and I'm sure the silent response is always the same meaningless, vapid reason. Because he wants to, because he enjoys it, because why not? 

I'm shifted and then tossed to the floor. I land on my back with a groan and curl to the side. 

"How about we play a little game?" He asks as he steps around me. I get a great view of his black boots as he steps by my head. 

"A… A game?" I ask timidly. My hands find the floor and cautiously push me into a sitting position. Suddenly he's crouched beside me and I fall back. His right hand idly twirls the long hunting knife I'm becoming all too familiar with. 

"You have a choice. I can hook you right here, right now, in this basement… and you'll die. Quick and easy. Or you can try to find the hatch and I'll give you a two minute head start. But if I catch you, I get to kill you." His voice is low, nearly soft, but maybe it's the mask muffling it. My eyes drift upwards to the meat hook not two feet behind me. I can't tell if it's rust or layers of dried blood that give it a dull red color. I can't imagine how painful it must be to hang from one, and I'm not ready to find out. I lick my lips, a nervous habit, and my eyes dart back to him. Maybe he can already see my answer on my face because he stands and takes a step back. 

"You won't cheat?" I ask from my position on the ground. The slim chance of escape is too good to pass up, especially if the only other option is certain death. 

"I don't need to. Even if you find it, I'll see you again. And I won't go so easy next time." He taps the knife against his- no, the mask's- chin and waits as I stand and brush the dirt from my pants. For some reason his words drive home what the others couldn't: I'm stuck here. Death isn't permanent, and it certainly isn't an escape. 

"I'll take my chances on the hatch." I say in a voice much more confident than I feel. The blade stops against his mask, small red ticks mark where it's touched. It's impossible to know what he's thinking; if he's changed his mind and decided to kill me and just get it over with. 

"One…" I open my mouth, slightly confused. "Two… Three…" 

That's when I bolt for the stairs. Suddenly, as the humid night air stifles my throat, I feel overwhelmed. For all I know the hatch could be in a hidden corner of the basement. The yard is big, with enough dark corners and hidden nooks to make my task nearly impossible without incredible luck. But standing and waiting won't do any good, so I pick a direction and run until I'm a good ways away from the barn and I can slow to a walk. My eyes start scanning the ground, some shadows are nearly impossible to see clearly in but I have to keep moving. I peek my head in the direction of the barn, I can't see him. Two minutes must have passed by now, I can only hope he went to the opposite side. 

Every tree and crumbled wall appears like a figure in the darkness. I glance over my shoulder more times than I can count as I creep my way along. I'm too distracted to notice the birds perched on a wooden plank until I run into it, upsetting them in the process. 

The loud squawking makes me jump and I throw my hands up in defense as crows rush past my face, annoyance and malice in their otherwise dead eyes. Anyone nearby would've heard that commotion. I silently curse the birds as I trot forward, needing to put some distance between myself and the scene of commotion. I peek back over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of white in the distance. I do a double take, but it's gone if it was ever there. I press my palm to my head and shake it. Still, I dive to the side and pick a new path just in case. I stop, eyeing a shadowy patch of grass up ahead when a body slams into me. I pitch forward, my palms digging into tiny rocks and dirt. As soon as I catch myself, I'm hit again and a heavy weight pins me to the ground. 

"N-" my protest is broken off by a scream of pain as the knife digs into my back. Tears stream down my face as it's pulled out, there's nothing I can do as it pierces me again except cry out. My insides feel like they're melting around the shredded tissue. The third time, the hilt touches my back and I can taste blood and bile in my mouth. I cough it up, content to lie my head down and die. I close my eyes as the pain begins to dull only for my head to be yanked up by my hair. 

"Smile." He coos into my ear and my eyes open hazily to see a camera, followed by a bright flash, and then darkness. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Feel free to comment (or message me) any opinions, advice, criticism, ect.  
> Have a nice day :)


End file.
